


Idle Hands

by SinItToWinIt



Series: Let Not Mercy Forsake You [1]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Blackmail, Coersion, Dark!Roy, Ed is under thirteen, Insensitive handling of religion, M/M, Misuse of Religion, Molestation, Priest Abuse, Problematic AU, Rape/Non-con Elements, handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 13:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14853386
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinItToWinIt/pseuds/SinItToWinIt
Summary: The boy doesn’t say anything, he just stares down at his worn shoes and allows his bangs to fall forward to obscure his eyes. Roy is struck by the brightness of his hair, by the way it glows in the fading evening light slanting in through the clerestory windows, and the shadows that settle in his hollow cheeks serve as a counterpoint to his painful youth.The slant of his narrow shoulders betrays his shame, his guilt, his fear, and Roy realizes just how incredibly easy this is going to be.





	Idle Hands

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, this is a very bad fic, please read the warnings and the tags because I mean them. If you have an issue with any of this, kindly locate the 'back' button on your browser and navigate away.

“Empty your pockets.”

Roy had been keeping an eye on the boy for weeks, waiting for an opportunity to catch him in a clear act of depravity. He is homeless, clearly, and very, very young, although well-kept considering, but he has an air about him that Roy doesn’t quite trust and if the way his swift fingers had disappeared into the offertory bag during collection were any indication, his mistrust had been warranted. He hadn’t even bothered trying to follow along with mass and instead sat sullenly at the end of the furthest pew until nearly the entire congregation had filed out.

“What for?” the boy demands, gold eyes flashing, and Roy is struck with a sudden and indescribable need to tame.

“You know exactly what for.”

The church is empty now, save for the two of them, and the squeak of the boy’s shoe across the marble floor as he shifts echoes through the high arches of the arcade. He hesitates, but finally he complies, reaching his right hand (Roy notes that it’s very badly scarred,) into his pocket and withdrawing a handful of coins. It’s a pittance, really, barely even enough for a decent meal and Roy almost, _almost_ pities him for it, or he might if the capacity for it hadn’t been burned out of him in the heat of the Ishvalan desert.

“My brother needs to eat,” the boy says quietly, dropping the coins into Roy’s outstretched hand. “I didn’t think anybody’d miss it.”

“The Lord sees all,” Roy says, depositing the coins into his own pocket to replace in the bag later. “And so do I. I’ve been watching you. I knew you’d slip up, your sort always does.”

The boy doesn’t say anything, he just stares down at his worn shoes and allows his bangs to fall forward to obscure his eyes. Roy is struck by the brightness of his hair, by the way it glows in the fading evening light slanting in through the clerestory windows, and the shadows that settle in his hollow cheeks serve as a counterpoint to his painful youth.

The slant of his narrow shoulders betrays his shame, his guilt, his _fear_ , and Roy realizes just how incredibly easy this is going to be.

“Come with me.” Roy turns and starts down the arcade towards the door at the end of it. He doesn’t turn to ensure the boy follows; he’s certain he will.

He leads him through the door at the end of the arcade and down the narrow hallway that leads to his small office. He ushers the boy in first and then brushes his fingers against a small array carved into the doorframe, causing the two oil burning lamps to flare to life. The boy startles but Roy pays him no mind, shutting the door behind him with a decisive click.

The boy stands, uncertain, before Roy’s desk as Roy moves around it to take his seat in the rigid wooden chair on the other side of it.

“What’s your name?” he asks softly, watching the flickering play of the lamp light across the boy’s face. He really is a beautiful child.

“Ed,” the boy grinds out, managing to remain fierce even in the face of what must be a horrible fear. He’s committed a crime, after all, and the law doesn’t look fondly on street rats.

“Well Ed,” Roy says, lacing his fingers together on the desk and leaning forward. “Considering the amount and your motive for the theft, I don’t see any reason why we should bring the police into this. I’m willing, as a favor to you, to keep this between the two of us.” The tension floods out of Ed’s shoulders and Roy can see the relief overtake his features. He thinks he’s gotten away with it, and Roy allows him a moment to bask in the delusion before continuing. “Perhaps you can do me a favor in return.”

Ed eyes him for a minute, clearly trying to understand what manner of favor someone like Roy could want out of someone like him. “D’you mean like cleaning or something? ‘Cause I can work. I’ve got a gimp leg but I’m just as able as anyone else.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Roy says, flicking his eyes down over the boy’s legs. He thought he’d detected a slight limp in the echoes of his footfalls down the hallway. It’s a bit of a balm on what’s left of his conscious; Ed is already damaged goods. “But there’s a better use I can think of for those deft fingers of yours.”

He pushes his chair back from the desk and spreads his legs slightly, unzipping his trousers with one swift and fluid movement.

Ed, for a moment, can only stare. Roy can pinpoint the moment his disbelief turns to rage, and it’s a shift he’ll savor the memory of forever. “What the _fuck_?” he screeches indignantly, taking an instinctive step back. “What kind of perverted fucking bastard priest are you? If you think I’m getting anywhere _near_ —“

“You said you have a brother?” Roy interrupts with a tone of easy nonchalance, and the color drains from Ed’s face. “I think I’ve seen him here with you before, haven’t I, but never during the day, isn’t that right? I’d imagine you send him to school while you try to scrounge up whatever you can for the two of you to scrape by. That’s very wise of you, education is truly the key to success and I’m sure he does well, you make certain of that, don’t you? You’re willing to steal for him so I can only imagine how important he is to you.” Ed’s fists are clenched tightly at his sides and Roy can see his resolve beginning to crumble. “I would so hate to have to contact the police. Gracious only knows what will become of you both. They could hardly allow two children to remain on the street, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you how difficult it is to keep a family together in foster care. Your brother, well, he’d be a catch. Any family would be pleased to welcome him. You, though, would be a bit more difficult to place.” Roy shrugs elegantly. “You might not ever see him again.”

Ed’s face is so beautifully expressive, and Roy can see each and every emotion that flits across it with breathtaking, startling clarity, until he finally settles on defeat. “You bastard,” he whispers. “You absolute fucking bastard.”

“Come over here,” Roy orders, tinting his tone with that edge of command he’d acquired in battle and never quite rid himself of. Ed so clearly wants to refuse, but his feet drag across the floor until he’s standing just outside of Roy’s reach. “Touch me.”

Ed grits his teeth and his hand, the scarred one, trembles as he presses his fingers against the fly of Roy’s trousers. He looks like he’s going to be sick.

“Reach in and take it out. It’s just like touching yourself.”

The way Ed’s face flushes at his words draws a deep delight from Roy and he can’t help the thrill that cuts through him at the idea that this boy is a true innocent.

Ed’s small fingers hesitate before pushing into the gap of his trousers and Roy hums deep in his throat when they wrap around his cock and pull it free.

“Good,” Roy praises. “Now stroke.”

Ed complies and as he begins to move his hand, his face completely locks down save for the lingering trace of disgust that hovers at the corners of his eyes. The rhythm is inexpert and clumsy but Roy is hard in Ed’s hand and aroused beyond all reasonable belief. He’s certain he’ll come from this, and although he’d rather spill himself down that pretty little throat, that’s something he will look forward to later. It won’t do to overwhelm the boy so soon.

The halting cadence of his movements tease Roy into a frenzy and he allows himself a few moments of indignity as he tips his head back against the chair to let out a long, low moan. Ed startles again, and the jerk brings his thumb swiping over the sensitive, leaking slit of Roy’s cock.

“Do that again,” he orders, barely holding on to the last threads of his control, and Ed complies without complaint, no doubt wishing to end this indignity as soon as possible, and his plan comes to fruition as Roy comes with a cry, pushing himself into Ed’s small hand and painting it with his release.

Ed draws back as if burned, regarding the mess on his hand with a mixture or pure horror and sick. Roy takes a moment to enjoy the sight and catch his breath before he straightens and tucks himself back into his trousers. He reaches into a desk drawer and comes away with a small handkerchief.

“Come here,” he says softly, beckoning Ed forward and Ed, looking for all the world like the lost and frightened child he most certainly is, moves back within Roy’s reach and he takes his wrist gently and draws him closer in order to begin wiping his hand clean. He can feel his pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips, and it’s the closest thing to heaven Roy has ever experienced.

Satisfied that Ed is clean enough, he drops his hand and replaces the handkerchief in his desk drawer before turning his attention back to Ed. He certainly looks worse for wear, but he detects a small hint of relief there, too, and that just won’t do.

“I expect to see you back here tomorrow at noon,” Roy says briskly, standing and pushing the chair back under the desk. “No doubt, this isn’t the first time you’ve snatched a few coins out from under my nose and you’ve got a lot to make up for.”

“I haven’t—“

Roy raises a hand and cuts off what is sure to be an spectacularly indignant tirade. “The devil finds work for idle hands,” he says. “I’ll be sure to keep you busy.”

“Does that make you the devil?” Ed bites out, and Roy can only laugh much to Ed’s clear enragement. “And what if I decide I don’t want to come back? What if I decide to tell someone that you’re a sick fucking freak who gets off on little kids giving you handjobs?”

Roy laughs again, and if looks could kill Ed would strike him dead. “No one would believe you,” he said simply, and the truth of it struck Ed deep and that beautiful resignation overtakes him once again. Roy is a respected, important member of the community, and Ed is nothing but an unwanted, homeless child. If anyone cared for his wellbeing, he wouldn’t have ended up under Roy’s thumb in the first place and they’re both well aware of it. Roy walks over to the door and opens it with a flourish. “You had best run on home now, it’s getting late. Your brother will worry.”

The last time Roy had seen a fire as bright as the one that sparked in Ed’s eyes had been in Ishval. “Fuck you,” he snarls, and slips out of the door sideways, keeping as much distance between himself and Roy as possible.

It’s a tantalizing thought, and it lingers in his mind as he watches Ed’s pert little ass disappear down the hallway. Fucking Ed will be nothing short of the most exquisite treat. But everything in due time. That sort of perfection isn’t the sort of perfection that can be rushed. Ed’s innocence is something to be savored, to be picked away slowly until there’s nothing left of it, and Ed is a broken toy in his hands.

Perhaps he is the devil after all.


End file.
